


la douche

by orphan_account



Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [6]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Armie Hammer Being an Asshole, Bathing/Washing, Brat Timothée Chalamet, Cute Timothée Chalamet, Douchebaggery, Horny Timothée Chalamet, Injury, Innuendo, M/M, Showers, Teasing, if that's a word, still recovering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Armie thinks Timmy needs to bathe. Lulz ensue.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087184
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	la douche

“Timmy, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re starting to smell. When’s the last time you had a bath?”

“In the hospital. A cute CNA gave me a sponge bath. Her name was Missy, I think. That’s been a couple of days though, so...Friday night?”

“Ugh. Please, don’t take offense to this, but that is _disgusting_. I can’t believe I’m even letting you touch me, to be honest.”

“Haha. That’s funny.” Timotheé rolled over toward Armie and snuggled up against his chest. He stuck his tongue out and licked his chin, collarbone, and the line of his throat. 

Armie snorted. He took hold of Timotheé’s wrists and gently pushed him away from him. For a moment he stared into Timotheé’s eyes, captivated by their depth and their mischievous glint. He groaned at the feel of blood rushing south.

“Stop that,” Armie scolded ruefully. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

“Won’t it?” Timotheé grinned. As Armie held him, he turned his head aside and licked the length of his forearm, from his wrist to his elbow. “It seems like it’s working to me.”

“ _Timmy_.” Armie glared at him in exasperation. He let go of one of his wrists, and slid his hand up behind Timotheé’s head to tangle in his hair at the nape of his neck. With a gentle tug, he pulled Timotheé towards him.

Timotheé resisted. He smiled at Armie and smacked his lips. Armie groaned. He twined a tendril of Timotheé’s hair around his fist and leaned his face into it, taking a deep breath.

Timotheé’s lips parted in a soft whimper. Suddenly, Armie let him go. “Fine,” he quipped. “If you want to smell like _ass_ , that’s on you. I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

Within seconds, he left the bed and covered the small distance to the bathroom. Armie left the door open as he pulled his shirt up over his shoulders. He looked at Timotheé for a moment, crumpled the shirt up and threw it at him.

He laughed until he coughed, clutched his sides and had to sit down on the toilet seat before he lost his balance. Absurdly, it had landed right on top of Timotheé’s head. Timotheé hissed and examined the shirt in his hands. It was a gray washed short-sleeve T-shirt, with the bright green and white logo of the Boston Celtics.

“Huh. Interesting choice of apparel. I know you’re kind of roughing it for the next couple of months or so, but Armie - as your friend, I hate to be the one to tell you, but I have to - you’re kind of starting to embarrass me.”

“Is that right?” Armie stretched his arms above his head. Timotheé stared at his abs and stomach, the little trail of brown hair that began just under his belly button. He moaned involuntarily and buried his face in the shirt. “Armie...why are you being so mean to me?"

There was no answer, and when Timotheé looked up again, Armie was standing in the buff. Timotheé raised his eyes slowly starting from Armie’s feet. His gaze trailed up Armie’s legs, his member at half mast. Timotheé took in his fine form, his thick shoulders and massive height, and whimpered at Armie’s playfully malevolent smirk.

He stood and let Timotheé look at him. “As your friend, Timmy, I just want to give you an idea of what you’re missing. Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

“I can’t. I doubt there’s even enough room for the two of us in the stall, and besides, you know I can’t get my bandages wet. Not for another few days, at least.”

Armie grinned and bit his lower lip. He walked back into the room, bent down, and literally picked Timotheé up off of the bed. 

“If you can’t get in the shower with me, you can damn well sit on the toilet and watch me. When I’m all sparkly and clean I’ll give you a sponge bath myself. You’ll have to let me know how I compare to Missy, or whatever her name is. If you feel the need to touch yourself while you watch, I won’t judge.”

**Author's Note:**

> Calling this one 'la douche' is kind of tongue-in-cheek. The French word for "shower" is _douche_.


End file.
